


But I still have a tear to give

by JervisCrane



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JervisCrane/pseuds/JervisCrane
Summary: Without her magic... what was left? How would it be useful to her father?
Kudos: 4





	But I still have a tear to give

The pain woke her up. Sometimes, it was the unpredictable weather at the end of the seasons. Other times, she flinched in sleep for no apparent reason, perhaps the weight of her shoulders already hunched against the pain. Whatever the cause of it, there was little she could do, other than lie face down on her bed and wait, taking care that nothing but air touched her scars. No magic could touch these wounds, I don't know how it would recover to her like she once did. No tonics, no herbal concoctions, no salves, nothing magical or mundane. The old gods only knew that her father and her emperor had attempted any number of healings, his own, that of others, both within and without the Outer World. He cursed aloud whoever had killed the sorcerer without thinking that his false children would need the magic to heal. There has been nothing in the weeks since the magik blood was stolen from her.

The same that gave him much of her life force to live, fight and subsist.

Her muscles contracted painfully hard and breath caught in her throat. She rose onto her elbows, her spine arching in an effort to keep moving her muscles. While nothing could compare to the first agony of waking up without her magic, days like these were coming. She remembered the muscles cut with iron and how they tried to move and open her skin that was no longer there to reach her arteries to be drained of her magik and her blood; every movement is sharp and scorching. Her empty joints ached, the pain enveloping her shoulders and ribs like a vice. In the worst days, she could swear that she was still there, that she could feel the blood of her enemies throbbing in the bodies of others, feel the joy of her blood against her bare skin.

Her muscles calmed down, he took a deep, shaky breath, falling back onto her stomach hard and feeling weaker. Her pillows were wet from the tears that had leaked, and her blankets were damp with sweat. Her lip was raw where she bit down hard from the pain that covered her entire existence, and she shivered in the cool air of the room. There was little else she could do, leave her alone with the thoughts of her. She hated days like this.

**She hated Salazar.**

**...Skarlet hated herself for blindly loving and trusting that damned mercenary.**


End file.
